


We Shall All be healed

by Sleepwalker1991



Category: Homeward Bound: The Incredible Journey (1993)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23052454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepwalker1991/pseuds/Sleepwalker1991





	We Shall All be healed

The following constitutes the basic texts of a new religion that never quite got off the ground. It had no name, but it did manage to claim a few victims in its heyday, and it still reins in the occasional stray cur whose good heart does not quite function properly. save a thought for our friends who did not make it out the other side of the machine. Bonne chance.

\-------------------------- I let the mice chew through the bandages. One of them was this brown and white mouse who approached the whole task with a wonderful sense of play. Sparkling little eyes lightheartedly intent on their work. Magnificent. Every little bit helps. I would lie there, in the boiling afternoon, watching the mice come and go, and I would think fondly of you. ----------

\-------------- ALBUMS RECOVERED FROM THE ABANDONED HOUSE Curtis Mayfield "CURTIS / LIVE" Lou Reed "BLONDES HAVE MORE FUN" (BOOTLEG, AUSTRALIA 1974) THE COMPLETE RECORDED WORKS OF Bad Company Jerry Jeff Walker SELF-TITLED Ready for the World "LONG TIME COMING"

I would reach for the telephone and then suddenly retract my hand as though I'd nearly grabbed hold of a snake. That was me: letting it slide. Watching unthinkable things on the stolen VCR hooked up through no small effort to the cheap bolted-down TV. Eating Milk Duds all day. Milk Duds and Charritos. And Royal Crown Cola in bottles.

You could get it for cheap up at the Viva. For real.

CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD Chavo Guerrero Ox Baker Al Madril Eddie "the Continental Lover" Mansfield Black Gordman In the great heat of the old motel I could feel the part of me that had been resisting the final disconnect beginning to wither. The kind of shrinking we practice turns us into invisible towers of strength. I'm sorry I brought you into this mess but I'm sorrier still that I'm not dumb enough to sink my arms in past the elbows. I have this sick feeling there's something really great past the point of no return. Stupid, huh? I let the mice chew through the bandages. I sat back and let them go about their joyful business. Ripping and tearing. They were setting me free. we hold it down. this one goes out to you with all the love that's in me. "you can pick your friends," that's what people's mothers are always telling them when they're growing up listen to me: no you can't -

\------------------------- Dave said he had to stop by some guy's apartment to conduct a little business. It was an apartment up past he Department of Justice building. I didn't know they had apartments in that neighborhood and in fact they didn't. It was a motel. I didn't know there were any motels up that way either. "What would Jesus not do?" Haha "neighborhood." Haha "motel." It was a huge eggshell-beige building that wouldn't have looked out-of-place if you'd picked it up and then set it down right in the middle of the god-damned Eastern bloc. Dave went in through the mesh-grated front entrance, which was not locked. I didn't know any of the people who lived there so I stayed outside. Wide awake in the buzzing center of the dream. About a year later I would run into a guy named Gary real random-like in almost the exact same spot. Gary would be dressed in a small black skirt and some vintage furs.

Some old troll would come past looking for cheap trade, and Gary would fall to his hands and knees didn't say nothing. Back in Dave country I was watching when he finally emerged from that building which I will see again in Hell. All smiles. "You wanna go back to your place for a while?" Didn't mean what some other people would have meant. Small favors, thank heaven, et cetera. Four months to go. You know that Neil Young song about North Ontario where he says "all my changes were there"? that's me only few of the changes were good

My sickness and I were like best friends in an underground treehouse, and we held on for eight months Just last year I went back there and stood tentatively at the front door, gazing in through the glass gazing in through the glass gazing in through the glass and wondering if the ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhosts were still there That's when somebody who lives there now came out, bid me good morning, and proceeded down the carpeted stairs to the sidewalk,

the door swinging very slowly shut behind him I slipped in Got into the elevator, unchanged since my tenure there in the stomach of that still-unclassified beast, and took it down one floor. Sometimes when you go back to the scene of your great unbecoming collapse, the place seems emptied of its totemic power: somehow the blood-rich light has drained away from it and you realize that things don't make bad scenes,

people do Well In the present case this occasional rule did not apply, I can tell you that much I made my way down to my former door which still bore scuff-marks I'd put there myself, and stood before it,

a supplicant before an idol Waiting for something Waiting for it to speak Waiting for the moment when the building and the street and the town would let go of me at last Waiting for you the end

\----- 1. Attach a bell to every dead friend you have Blow a disco whistle once for each friend who you know will eventually need his own bell Count the bells and write the number you come up with somewhere on your body

2\. Go to church Say hello to the people who say hello to you Think about your secret Keep your secret secret

3\. Return to the scene of the crime Say out loud, "I got away with it" Listen to the sound of your own voice

4-5. Get married Move to the Isle of Man Send postcards to all your old friends telling them they must come and visit When the postcards all return to you marked "moved - no forwarding address" Place them in a drawer Tell your wife or husband how this makes you feel

6\. Remove the bells from your dead friends carry them with you in your pocket they will jingle as you walk down the street walk down the street

7\. whistle

Turn off the computer to escape from the maze if you like, only it won't work. Sorry. After some discussion we thought it best to be upfront with you about that.

Brave young scavengers in your fabulous black jeans. Hold on. _Hold on with both hands_


End file.
